Do I look like someone who has something to do here on earth?' —That's what I'd like to answer the busybodies who inquire into my activities.

When every man has realized that his birth is a defeat, existence, endurable at last, will seem like the day after a surrender, like the relief and the repose of the conquered.

If we could see ourselves as others see us, we would vanish on the spot.

We understand God by everything in ourselves that is fragmentary, incomplete, and inopportune.

Life is merely a fracas on an unmapped terrain, and the universe a geometry stricken with epilepsy.

The desire to die was my one and only concern; to it I have sacrificed everything, even death.

That history just unfolds, independently of a specified direction, of a goal, no one is willing to admit.